The day was nearly gone when Atahualpa entered town, riding on a golden chair borne high on the shoulders of his servants. He had promised to come for a friendly visit, and unarmed; but singularly his friendly visit was made with a following of several thousand athletic warriors! Ostensibly they were unarmed; but underneath their cloaks they clutched bows and knives and war-clubs. Atahualpa was certainly not above curiosity, unconcerned as he had seemed. This new sort of men was too interesting to be exterminated at once. He wished to see more of them, and so came, but perfectly confident, as a cruel boy might be with a fly. He could watch its buzzings for a time; and whenever he was tired of that, he had but to turn down his thumb and crush the fly upon the pane. He reckoned too soon. A hundred and seventy Spanish bodies might be easily crushed; but not when they were animated by one such mind as their leader's. Even now Pizarro was ready to adopt peaceful measures. Good Fray Vicente de Valverde, the chaplain of the little army, stepped forth to meet Atahualpa. It was a strange contrast,--the quiet, gray-robed missionary, with his worn Bible in his hand, facing the cunning Indian on his golden throne, with golden ornaments and a necklace of emeralds. Father Valverde spoke. He said they came as servants of a mighty king and of the true God. They came as friends; and all they asked was that the Indian chief should abandon his idols and submit to God, and accept the king of Spain as his _ally_, not as his sovereign.